


You're Functioning, I Don't Give A Damn About Your Dick

by Pisces21Red



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Frustrated Ian, M/M, Medication Side-Effects, Sexual Dysfunction, Understanding Mickey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-27 08:53:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2686760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pisces21Red/pseuds/Pisces21Red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Mickey reassures Ian that his dick isn't the only thing he loves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Functioning, I Don't Give A Damn About Your Dick

Steam billowed out after Ian as he made his way into the bedroom, having just gotten out of the shower, the band of his boxers already fastened around his waist. At this point, he was just ready to jump into bed and kick back, maybe watch a little T.V.

Mickey looked up from where he was aimlessly flipping through channels, under the covers, relaxing in the stillness of the rest of the apartment, and took in his boyfriend’s lithely muscled physique. “Everything okay today?”

That was Mickey’s discreet way of asking “How was your day?” as the smaller male had told him many times over the years that he refused to become the typical sickly sweet couple that rubbed each other’s feet and fed one another strawberries covered in chocolate after shitty days at work. And that included the customary “How was your day?” question, instead he inquired about Ian’s day in his own Mickey-esque way.

The ginger wondered what the difference really was but the fact that it was Mickey was explanation enough.

Ian slowly sat down on the bed, hand reaching out to turn the digital alarm clock towards him, the time informing him it was around 10 P.M., and he made sure it was set for tomorrow. “Yeah…had that annoying brunette girl who’s too damn ditzy to fully listen to what I try to show her.”

Ian earned his certification as a personal trainer in wide varietal aspects of fitness and nutrition a couple years after he got his GED and took hours upon hours and day after day of classes required to deal in fitness training. Because of his wide spread appreciative skills, he’d gotten more and more clients as the years passed, increasing his bank intake. But sometimes the clients he had made him question why he felt the need to work in a profession where he more often than not dealt with snobby, rich _and_ dumb clients.

“Mmm.” Mickey hummed in sympathy. “She the one that can’t take the hint you’re gay and got a boyfriend?”

“That’s the one.” Ian flipped the lamp off on his side of the bed, plunging the room into darkness, only illuminated by the colorful images dancing around on the T.V. and got under the covers, getting comfortable against the fat, yet insanely soft pillows. “But she pays me damn near $500 for every session, so I can’t really complain. It’s her money.”

The two lay in silence for a while watching as Olivier Martinez followed Diane Lane into a café bathroom stall to fuck her brains out against the wall on the sizable screen. The movie was definitely a sorrowfully suspenseful and reflective look on what Ian guessed to be how a simple encounter could change everything you ever knew and also that you shouldn’t fuck around with a married woman whose husband was Richard Gere, ‘cause you’ll seriously regret that shit. Or maybe not, since people have been iffy about that dude since that whole gerbil up the ass incident but whatever, the point of the movie still remained.

But Ian soon began to feel that swirling glob of lust pooling in his stomach at the appearance the sheer erotic nature of fucking someone in public. He’d imagined doing something like that to Mickey on more than one occasion, if he could just get his dick to act right.

Surprisingly, it was coming out of hiding at the moment and Ian looked over at Mickey who was playing around on his phone. How the fuck could he _not_ be captivated by at least a _second_ of this movie?

Making sure he wasn’t imagining anything and his dick really _was_ starting to harden, he scooted closer to Mickey, simply plucking the phone out of his hands and plopping it down onto his bedside table. He cut off Mickey’s loud exclamation of “what the hell, Ian?” and fastened his lips to his.

It immediately shut him up and he eagerly returned the hungry kiss. It started out slow and passionate, so similar to the kiss they shared in that shitty club Ian used to work at, but then it soon transformed into something fulsomely sordid. Their mouths no longer closed against one another’s; their tongues sloppily entangling together, slickly rubbing as if mimicking two dancers heavily grinding against one another to some filthy tune, the tune in this case being the wet smacking and both men’s low guttural groans and moans.

It had been about a couple weeks since they’ve last had a kiss like this one and Mickey was feeling the full effects of Ian’s rough tongue coaxing his own out to up the ante. Mickey pulled Ian down on top of him, his hands cupping Ian’s face gently, a significant contrast to the almost furiously hard way he was attacking the taller man's mouth and tongue.

He felt something hard from below and he broke away from Ian, their lips parting with a quiet suctioning sound.

“Yea…?” Mickey knew that Ian understood what he was questioning and Ian frantically nodded, his eyes blown wide in lust yet Mickey could see a hint of uncertainty lurking beneath the orbs.

“I-I think so. Yeah.”

“I’ll get the stuff.” Mickey wasted no time in rolling over to retrieve the lube out from his side of the bed, while Ian yanked off his boxers and worked Mickey’s off while he was distracted trying to locate the bottle in the few drawers.

Ian delivered a few lingering strokes to his completely erect member in surety that it’ll stay awake long enough to fuck his boyfriend good and hard. He was tired not even ten minutes ago but now he was alert in more ways than one, another side effect of those fucking pills.

He focused his attention back on Mickey hearing him let out a cursed cry of victory over finding the lube and Ian would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so hard up for getting his dick in Mickey pronto. If they hadn’t had a kiss like that in about two weeks, then he didn’t want to imagine how long it’s been since they’ve actually fucked.

Ian snatched the bottle from Mickey, pouring probably more than he really needed on his fingers, the cool gel spilling onto the bed sheets and on Mickey’s body as the smaller male settled onto his back, his legs splayed open. Normally, they would both be asking the other where the fire was and to slow down but they both knew that Ian’s bouts of arousal were extremely unpredictable and it sucked when they had to more oft than not, rush through things, tiptoeing around this fucking disease.

Softly rubbing his slicked fingers around Mickey’s hole, Ian slowly inserted two long fingers, knowing that Mickey could take it. It was a bit of a tight fit since it had been awhile, so Ian settled down onto his stomach and lapped around Mickey’s hole to relax the muscles, his other hand reaching up to wrap around the man’s half-erected cock.

The fingers were slowly sucked in and Ian was finally able to properly stretch Mickey out, adding another finger when Mick beckoned for another one, claiming he wasn’t made of glass.

A jarring feeling traveled along the length of his stomach and up his spine at the sensation of numbness slamming into his body, causing him to slowly lose interest in the current activity, the arousal starting to ebb away.

“ _Shit_ …”

“What’s wrong?” Mickey worriedly asked sitting up on his forearms.

Ian was quick to shake his head, dismissing his worry and instead got into position and gently but steadily pushed his slightly flagged erection into the stocky male’s warm and damp entrance.

Mickey exhaled a soft groan, cupping his balls and cock up towards his stomach to give Ian ample room to fully thrust in, allowing the ticklish thatch of Ian’s burnt-orange colored pubic hair to brush against the soft skin of his perineum.

Pumping his hips back and forth, the thin thread inside Ian’s body snapped and his sexual interest disappeared, his dick wilting dramatically, like a flower without its necessary nourishment of rain and sunlight.

“Ah, dammit, dammit. _Fuck_ …” Ian pulled out, Mickey letting out a wince as the softened organ retreated from his body with a quiet plop.

Mickey sat up and helplessly watched as Ian tried to desperately pump himself back to full hardness, the _slick-slick-slick_ loud in the bedroom despite the low murmurings coming from the T.V.

“Ian…” He sighed out, holding out a hand to stop him. “C’mon, stop it, you’re gonna rub it raw, and that’s gonna hurt like a bitch. It’s alright, okay?”

“I’m so sorry, Mickey…I…”

“Hey, look, I said it’s alright. Just…let’s just go to bed, we can talk about it in the mornin’. We've both had a long day-”

“Shit, Mick, I didn’t even ask how your day was.” Ian dropped his head in his hands, the words ‘ _shitty boyfriend_ ’ zooming across his brain in different colors and sizes almost like he had the illuminative, bright lights of the Vegas strip temporarily re-located to inside his brain.

“Shut up, Ian. You know damn well I don’t get butt-hurt over shit like that.” Mickey acquired a couple tissues from Ian’s bedside table and wiped themselves down the best he could and threw them in the bedside mini-trash bin. “I fuckin’ love you for _you_ , not just your dick, I won't lie and say it ain't an added bonus though. But don’t get so worked up, man. It ain’t like you can control it and it ain’t like it’s your fault; don’t ever think that. I’d have to be sadistic to ever blame you for anything really.”

Mickey wiped a smear of lube off of his stomach, his own erection having long since lost interest too. He then looked back up at Ian, a teasing smirk placed firmly on his lips. “Unless it’s when you purposely put everything so high up on the fuckin’ shelves that I have to damn near break my ankle while jumpin' ta' get it.” Mickey jokingly added.

He didn’t want Ian to think he was upset with him because he honestly wasn’t. And why would he be? Their relationship now was better than most couples’ who actually _had_ sex on a daily basis. He’d learned over the years that sex wasn’t everything especially when you were in the type of relationship that just spending time and getting to experience different shit with each other was more pleasurable than the exchange of bodily fluids.

Surely, Mickey would have thought that to be a pile of horse, cat and dog piss back then but having been in the same relationship for damn near ten years, he could honestly be among the first to attest to that shit.

Ian let out a wet chuckle and nodded, a tiny smile making its appearance. “…I don’t do it on purpose.”

Mickey playfully scoffed. “Yeah, okay, keep tellin’ yourself that, big guy.”

A bigger smile began to bloom on Ian’s face and Mickey spoke up again. “Just don’t sneak up on me like you did that one time, 'cause you were close to mopping up blood and brain matter from when I almost cracked my head on the goddamn tiles.”

Ian let out a short bark of laughter, smiling in memory of scaring Mickey to near death. The Milkovich had been _so_ pissed off at him after that.

Feeling the swell of happiness in his chest that he was quickly able to reassure Ian and get his mind off of what just happened, Mickey leaned over, grabbing up the remote and shutting the T.V. off.

“Now, c’mon, let’s get to bed.” They settled themselves under the covers, adjusting the pillows behind them. “I know you gotta get up at the ass crack of dawn and get your running in.” Mickey punctuated the statement with a short yet meaningful kiss to Ian’s lips before turning away on his side, giving Ian the green light to turn into his secret identity of The Octopus for the night, his long arms wrapping around Mickey, his chest plastered to his back.

“I fucking love you, Mickey Milkovich.” Ian said after a couple beats of silence in the now pitch black room.

Mickey smiled and patted the arm hooked around his mid-chest, knowing that Ian wasn’t looking for him to respond in what became his usual way of “Love you, too”.

“Go to sleep, Ian.”


End file.
